


Every Inch Of You

by CaptainWeasley



Category: The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: AU: Harry is cured, Abandonment Issues, Anal Sex, And Peter loves it, Angst, Established Relationship, Fluff, Harry is a bratty bottom, M/M, Porn with Feelings, This is extremely sappy, also Harry is starved for affection and Peter is very gentle with him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:01:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23938846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainWeasley/pseuds/CaptainWeasley
Summary: Ever since his father sent him away, there's a little voice inside Harry's head that tries to convince him he's not wanted. Peter does everything he can to show Harry that's not true.
Relationships: Harry Osborn/Peter Parker
Comments: 10
Kudos: 129





	Every Inch Of You

Harry can never get that annoying voice out of his head: _You're not wanted_ , it tells him, has been telling him this ever since he was eleven years old and his father sent him away to boarding school. 

Even when Peter is right there next to him in Harry's bed, the little voice is there. Rationally, Harry knows it's not true, knows that Peter won't leave him, he can clearly remember the last time Peter told him he loved him, his fears are baseless, unfounded, and yet... And yet, the voice is still there. 

It's making his stomach hurt, that fear, and it's making him angry at himself, angry at his asshole of a father, it's making him want to cling to Peter and never let him go, and that's just pathetic. Harry bites his lip, keeps watching Peter—he's reading something on his phone, he looks relaxed and utterly beautiful in the early morning light, but that last one isn't surprising. Peter is annoyingly handsome without even trying, another reason why the little voice inside Harry's head is so insistent. 

_He could be with anyone he wanted,_ it tells him smugly. _He won't stay with you._

Harry isn't sure why he is so vulnerable today, it's not like he hasn't been telling himself these sorts of things for years now, he should be used to it, but for some reason it makes him tear up today. He turns his head away from Peter. 

He truly is pathetic, Harry thinks, lying in bed next to his boyfriend, and crying because he's afraid Peter's going to leave him. Weak and pathetic and that's exactly _why_ Peter's going to leave him, he's giving him every reason to leave, isn't he? He just isn't good enough for Peter. Peter is gorgeous and kind and gentle and a goddamn hero, and Harry is just an idiot with abandonment issues. 

It's not like Harry doesn't know what's wrong with him, he's a rational man after all, he can name all his psychological problems. The thing is, knowing what a condition is called doesn't really give him control over it. He knows for a fact that the little voice is lying, and yet he still believes it, at the end of the day. It doesn't really make sense, and yet, this is his reality. 

"Harry, what's wrong?" 

Harry meets Peter's eyes, Peter's still holding his phone in one hand, but not looking at it, instead focused singularly on Harry. 

"Nothing." 

Peter shakes his head slightly, lets his phone fall somewhere on the mattress. 

"You're crying," he states quietly, and this is a fact that Harry can hardly deny, no matter how much he might like to. 

"So?" 

He feels like a petulant child, but better that than show Peter how pathetic he truly is, how insecure, how desperate for Peter's love. 

"So, tell me what's going on." 

Peter has this nasty habit of being kind. He never gets annoyed when Harry's annoyed, he just looks at him with those big brown eyes and speaks really quietly and when he does that, Harry feels like he wants to share his soul, like he wants to open up his heart completely, until it belongs to Peter in its entirety, until Harry himself ceases to exist. 

"It's laughable," Harry says, in a rather obvious attempt to evade the question. "Don't worry about it." 

"Harry, please tell me." 

Again, that voice, soothing, full of kindness. Peter's voice is Harry's undoing. 

"Oh, just the old abandonment issues, you know," Harry says, keeping his own voice forcefully light, as light as he can anyway, almost laughing at his own stupidity. "Putting crazy thoughts inside my head. Like I said, don't worry about it." 

Using the back of his hand to wipe his cheeks dry, Harry smiles at Peter. When it comes to ignoring and downplaying his own emotions, he's an artist. He's had years and years of training, after all. 

Peter, however, doesn't buy this. Of course he doesn't, he never does, he always sees right through Harry's pretenses. Harry hates it, and at the same time, he never wants Peter to stop seeing him. Really seeing him, really looking at him, the way he does right now, it almost makes Harry tear up again. He bites his own lip very hard, chides himself inwardly. One emotional display per day really is more than enough. 

"Are you afraid I'm going to leave you, Har?" 

Peter's voice is still so goddamn _kind_ , it's not easy to deal with, it makes Harry want things, clingy things, sappy things, pathetic things. 

"Obviously," Harry says, still trying to make it sound like he doesn't care, like these thoughts don't actually affect him. "You're the only person left who _could_ leave me." 

"Come here." 

Peter holds out his arms. 

When Harry's face is pressed tightly against Peter's chest, Peter holding him close, kissing Harry's blond head, Harry almost cries again. _Fuck._

"I'm not leaving you," Peter tells him. "I am with you and I love you." 

"I know," Harry whispers into Peter's skin, "I'm pathetic." 

"No, you're not," Peter says firmly. "Harry, having feelings does not make you pathetic, no matter how hard you try to convince me that it does." 

Harry laughs, even though it's without much humor. He laughs so that he doesn't have to cry. 

"I'm not trying to convince you—" 

"Oh yes, you are. Every time you show a single emotion, you immediately tell me all about how pathetic you are. You know what, Har? I'm not having it. From now on, every time you say something bad about yourself, I'm going to tell you something I love about you. Let's see... I love that face you make right before you drink your first coffee in the morning. It's adorable." 

Peter kisses his head again, and Harry can feel himself blushing. 

"This is ridiculous." 

"I love the way you talk to your asshole attorneys at Oscorp." 

"Oh please!" 

"What, you think I'm not being serious?" There is definitely a teasing note in Peter's voice now. "How about this: I love your smile. I love your smile so much, Harry." 

"Peter," Harry drawls, almost smiling despite himself, "stop it." 

He can feel Peter chuckling, his chest shaking against Harry's face. 

"No. I'm gonna keep doing this, and one day, you might even believe that I do, in fact, love you." 

Harry sighs. 

"Oh, I believe you. It's my subconscious that's the problem." 

"Well, maybe someday, your subconscious is going to believe it as well." 

Harry places a soft kiss on Peter's chest. Peter always smells so good, it's really not normal. Then again, Peter is a hero with superpowers, normal doesn't apply to him. 

"I don't know what's wrong with me today. It's not usually this bad." 

Peter tightens his arms around Harry. 

"There's nothing wrong with you, Harry. You're _having feelings_ , that's perfectly normal. But since you brought it up: I love the way you always pretend you're too cool to experience emotions even when you're definitely feeling them." 

"Now you're just making fun of me," Harry complains. 

"Yeah," Peter concedes, and Harry can hear the grin in his voice, "yeah, I am. Okay, how about this one: I love your ass. Better?" 

Harry bursts out laughing at this. 

"Oh shut up, you dick." 

Peter's laughing as well. 

"I'm being serious. You want me to prove it?" 

The atmosphere is suddenly electric. Harry leans up on one elbow to look Peter in the face. 

Those damn brown eyes! 

Peter's eyes are so beautiful and expressive, as always. Not for the first time, Harry is glad that Peter wears a mask when he's Spider-Man. He is strangely possessive about those eyes, he wants those eyes only for himself, wants Peter to look at him and only him, fuck, he loves Peter so much. 

"Yeah," Harry says, his voice suddenly husky. "Prove it." 

"On one condition," Peter says, still looking at him with those big eyes, and now _that_ is just unfair. "I get to be gentle with you." 

Harry rolls his eyes, but it's mostly for show. He is desperate for Peter's touch, and he would agree to most anything at this point. 

"Fine," he says disparagingly. 

Being fucked hard, now that is not a problem for Harry. But when Peter's gentle, there are all these annoying feelings, and sometimes tears, and it's all rather embarrassing. 

"Lie back," Peter instructs, his voice quiet. 

Harry complies, albeit not without complaining. 

"You could've just fucked me, you know," he tells Peter. 

"Well, see, there's the problem," Peter replies with an easy smile, kisses one corner of Harry's mouth. "I don't want to just fuck you. I want to make love to you." 

Peter kisses his jaw, places little kisses down to his chin. 

"That's disgusting," Harry says, but his voice belies him, because he definitely sounds very turned on. 

"I love that you always have to have the last word," Peter whispers against Harry's neck, and a shudder runs through Harry's body. 

"No, I don't," Harry claims, completely aware that he's proving Peter's point exactly. 

Peter chuckles again, but doesn't dispute Harry's statement. He's busy licking at Harry's Adam's apple, making Harry laugh at the sensation. 

"So when you say making love, does that just mean tickling me?" 

"Harry, I know what you're doing. You can't trick me into fucking you, you know. I mean, yes you absolutely can, but not right now. Right now, I want to show you that I love every part of your body, and I want to kiss every inch of you." 

"Get on with it, then." 

Peter reaches Harry's clavicle and nibbles at it, just the way Harry likes. Harry shudders with desire and one part of him already regrets agreeing to this. Another part of him is desperate, however, desperate for love-making, desperate for those gentle kisses, the little nibbles, Peter's smile against his skin. It makes Harry feel wanted, and loved, and it shuts the horrible little voice up, if only for a while. Here is proof that Peter wants him, that he cares about him, physical evidence that even Harry's subconscious can't explain away. Harry can feel himself tear up again. 

Oh, today is going to be very embarrassing. 

As promised, Peter takes things slow. He peppers his chest with little kisses, he takes his time kissing up Harry's right arm, so much so that Harry wants to complain again. He makes himself keep quiet, though, because no matter how insistently he likes to pretend otherwise, he does actually enjoy this. 

Naturally, Peter has to tease him about it. 

"You like this, don't you?" 

He asks this after kissing each of Harry's fingertips, which is both very sweet and extremely infuriating. 

"Shut up, you dick." 

Peter grins against his palm. 

"I really don't know why you have such a problem saying it," Peter tells him, then licks over the inside of Harry's wrist, which makes Harry's heart beat faster and his dick get harder. Not really a good position from which to argue that Peter's actually wrong. 

"Just get on with it, Parker." 

This makes Peter chuckle. 

"I love how you call me Parker when I'm right and you don't want to admit it." 

"Oh, fuck off." 

Peter leans over to kiss Harry on the mouth, slowly, tantalizingly, teasing Harry's tongue with his own. 

"No, I don't think I will," Peter whispers against Harry's lips. "I was going to fuck _you_ , actually, unless you don't want me to?" 

"Jesus, Peter..." 

"Say it," Peter goes on, "admit that you want me to make love to you. Come on, Harry." 

He's smiling again, the infuriating bastard, and Harry loves him so damn much. 

"Don't do this to me, Pete." 

"You want me to stop?" 

Peter is already sitting up, almost letting go of his arm when Harry catches Peter's hand in his own and stops him. 

"Fine," he grumbles, staring up into Peter's eyes. "I want you to make love to me. Happy?" 

Peter grins. 

"Oh, extremely." 

Then, Peter's kissing him again, Peter's tongue in between Harry's lips, and Harry can't help but sigh into the kiss. Peter always tastes so good, that has to be part of his superpowers as well, Harry's never been with anyone else whose kisses tasted as good as this. 

But then, there's nobody on Earth quite like Peter. 

"I love you, Harry," Peter tells him in between kisses. "I love everything about you." 

Harry hates having feelings, sometimes. He doesn't hate the way he feels about Peter, never that, he could never hate anything that has to do with Peter. But he hates how vulnerable those feelings make him, how easy it would be for Peter to hurt him. Peter never would, but that's not the point, exactly. Harry spent his whole life trying to close off his heart to the world so he could never be hurt again, and yet his heart is so very open to Peter, desperate for Peter, incomplete without Peter. 

Harry buries his free hand in Peter's hair, that wonderful, unruly hair, and pulls him closer, deepening the kiss. Peter responds easily, naturally, like they are made for each other. 

There's a shudder running through Harry's whole body, and it's not just need, although it definitely is that, too. It's love, first and foremost, that's coursing through Harry's veins: he can feel his love for Peter like a physical sensation, can smell it, can taste it, it smells like Peter, it tastes like Peter, how would it not. 

They break the kiss, and Harry pulls Peter closer. 

"You'll hold me tight, won't you?" 

"I promise," Peter says. 

He does so even now, moves so that he's next to Harry, his arms are around him, his hands on Harry's back, and just embraces him tightly. Harry lets out a shuddering breath. This is another one of the advantages of being with a guy who has super-human strength: Peter can hug him so tightly that Harry feels like his whole body is being compressed, and even then it's scarcely enough. Sometimes, Harry wishes he could just stay in Peter's arms forever, until he forgets how it feels to not be in his arms, until he forgets all the times he was alone and unloved, until he forgets everything. 

He clings to Peter for a while, eyes closed tightly, until he can breathe evenly again. 

"Pete," he whispers, "fuck me. Please." 

"I promised I'd kiss you—" 

"Then fuck me first and kiss me afterwards. Just, please, Peter..." 

Fortunately, Peter doesn't argue this time. Instead, he uses his superpowers to get the lube out of the drawer, and Harry scoffs. 

"Show-off." 

Peter grins at him, spreading lube over his fingers. 

"Come on, you love it." 

Before Harry can come up with a good come-back to this, Peter spreads his legs apart and pushes a finger inside him, so Harry's only answer ends up being a drawn-out moan. He vaguely thinks that the idea to ban any kind of clothing from his bed was one of the better ones he's had in his life. It has truly saved them from a lot of awkward fumbling. 

Again, Peter takes his time. His long, slender fingers feel amazing inside Harry, they always do, even though the way they're ghosting over his prostate right now is downright torturous. There are more moans falling out of Harry's mouth, and and he's breathing hard, one hand closing around Peter's unoccupied one. There is an irrational fear inside Harry that Peter will get up and leave, even now, and he holds onto Peter's hand to make sure that doesn't happen. Harry's never actually told his boyfriend that's why he does it, and Peter has never asked. Maybe it's better this way. 

Peter interlaces his fingers of one hand with Harry's, while the fingers of his other hand are busy opening Harry up. Harry meets Peter's eyes, and then they're both smiling at each other for a moment, until Peter's fingertips make contact with Harry's prostate again and Harry groans, desperate for more, desperate to be fucked. 

"Peter," he drawls. 

He doesn't have to say any more than that, Peter knows him well enough by now to know exactly what he means. And what he means is, if you don't fuck me right now, I'm going to sue you. 

Peter eases his fingers out of Harry, lets go of Harry's hand so he can open the bottle of lube again and spread a generous amount over his cock. Then, he kneels in between Harry's legs so he can line himself up. Harry spreads his legs wide, which he is very good at, if he does say so himself. 

Peter looks at him, like he always does, looking for confirmation from Harry, because even when Peter's hard and ready, he always thinks of Harry's feelings first. It does very soft and ridiculous things to his heart, that knowledge, how safe it is to be with Peter, because Peter _cares_. Peter would never do anything to hurt him. 

Harry nods at him, never breaking eye-contact, even when Peter's cock breaches him, pushes inside him. Peter grips both of Harry's hips and rather than push further forward, he pulls Harry into his lap, until he's sheathed completely inside him. Now Harry's eyes do fall shut, and he moans, involuntarily, the sensation is just incredible, every single time. 

"Can I try something?" 

"Sure," Harry mumbles, not really caring as long as Peter fucks him. 

Peter leans forward a little, so he can take Harry by the shoulders and pull him up, so that they're both sitting, or rather, Peter's kneeling and Harry's sitting on his lap. Harry understands at once what Peter's trying to do, he promised he would hold Harry, and this is the best way to do just that. 

"You okay?" 

Harry adjusts his legs a little, then nods. He would love to make a witty remark, but he can't think of anything. 

"Hold me?" 

The words are out of Harry's mouth before he can stop himself, but he doesn't regret them, not when Peter pulls him close and kisses him, hard. Sitting like this, their heads are at the same height, which definitely has its benefits. Harry doesn't mind that his boyfriend is taller than him—in fact, he's very much into it—but always having to crane his neck when he's kissing him is just a bit inconvenient. 

Peter's skin is hot against his own, and Harry buries his hands in Peter's hair, desperate to hold onto him. 

Peter's thrusts are slow, and the angle doesn't really allow him to pull out very far on each of them. It's neither hard nor fast, and Harry would be disappointed were it not for the fact that Peter can actually hug him in this position, can hold him close. Maybe this is exactly what he needs right now. 

Peter breaks their kiss. 

"I love you," he whispers. "I love you, Harry Osborn, no matter how much you may doubt it, it's the truth. Do you believe me?" 

Harry looks at him, right into those damn brown eyes, and he can feel the tears stinging in his own. 

"Yes," he breathes, "I believe you." 

Another one of those slow thrusts, entirely too slow and yet perfect, somehow. 

"I love you," Harry adds, then, because if he's going to cry anyway, he might as well do so with good reason. "I love you so much, Peter." 

He can see the effect these words have on Peter, and he hates himself for everything he is, for his many shortcomings, for all his fucking issues. 

"I'm sorry I never say it," Harry continues, and Peter kisses the tear away that's rolling down his cheek. "But I do, I love you. More than anything." 

Peter kisses Harry's cheeks, his nose, his temples, everywhere he can reach, and Harry can see his eyes are shining with unshed tears as well. 

"Harry," is the only thing he says, and Harry is sure his name has never sounded more beautiful. 

Harry sometimes wonders what he ever did to deserve Peter Parker. He doubts he will ever fully understand what Peter sees in him, what makes him put up with all his bullshit, but right at this moment, he can't bring himself to care. Peter is here with him, _inside_ him for crying out loud, looking at him with those damned brown eyes, so full of sincerity and love. 

Harry kisses Peter again, letting himself be swept up in the sensations. Peter holds him steady, making Harry feel safe—safer and more cared for than he's ever been, loved in a way that all the money in the world can't buy. 

Harry loses his sense of time. It ceases to matter, like everything else: all that matters is Peter. 

Everything about Peter is perfect, just right. Harry could spend hours thinking about how gorgeous Peter is, his beautiful eyes, his smile that lights up a room, those slender fingers... But that's all just a bonus. The best thing about Peter is his soul: he is kind and brave and fights for what he believes in. He wants to give people hope. He _cares_. Peter is fundamentally a person who cares, and that is what Harry loves most about him. 

Like everything else today, Harry's climax is slow, gentle. It's not Earth-shattering, but it's not supposed to be. It doesn't need to be. 

Peter follows soon after, and he says Harry's name again when he comes, like Harry is precious, like he is worthy of Peter's love. 

Harry wants to believe him. 

And maybe one day, he will.


End file.
